Your Character's Name: Claire
After thirteen years of living alone in my filthy, crumbling abode, my social skills have dwindled down to pitifully low levels.
I find it extremely difficult to engage most of my companions in conversation. We've set up camp for the night, though I am a bit reluctant to sit too near the fire after today's incident at the liquor store, and the others chat amongst each other with relative ease. I observe from a spot several feet behind the circle, scuffing my worn leather boot in the dried dirt. Specks of dust fly up and hang, suspended, in the stagnant air. The smell of melting flesh lingers in my nostrils. My stomach grumbles, and I reach reflexively for some jerky, quickly changing my mind as I vividly remember the charred remains of Charlie's upper torso.
I wish I had any idea what I'm doing. I'm trying to head up this mission to save my parents by gathering tech, and so far all I've got is a lousy broken iPod and some batteries, one of which is starting to corrode. Judging by my companions' resistance to travelling North, through the outer edges of Rivertown, we're not likely to come across any loot between here and the Apple Store. I can only imagine what kind of information I'll get for the crap I have to trade. Yet for some reason, everyone seems reluctant to travel within the city limits. My feeble attempts at persuading the group to follow my lead amount only to meaningless, wasted air.
Winston leads the conversation, advising the others that the Northwest route would likely be safer. I wish he'd never even mentioned a choice; Bordeaux and Danver are always so quick to choose the easy way out. Surprisingly, Rio agrees with them - maybe there's something he knows about the North that I don't? He usually jumps at the chance to loot with me. That's what ultimately got us into trouble with the Bandit leader today, though Bordeaux's insolent comments surely didn't help any.
I contemplate Rio, who's sitting on the other side of the fire. He jokes a lot, but I can see sadness in his stature, an emptiness in his bright eyes. I can tell he's lost something, or someone - that hollow feeling is all too familiar to me. I want so badly to talk with him, to share in his pain, to help him find what it is he's looking for - but I can't find the right way to go about it. So far, he's been very evasive, turning any personal conversation in the opposite direction. I might not have even noticed if I wasn't so interested in knowing more about him.
The flicker of the campfire casts shadows on his face, highlighting the strong, stubbly jaw, the slight hollow beneath the cheekbones, the dimples that appear when he laughs. I have never been attracted to a Hispanic man before, but for some reason I feel a strong magnetism toward this man with the world in his eyes. I regret leaving my mascara and shampoo behind – since I left my home in a crying mess, I am not looking my best right now. Walking for a few days along the road has left my skin with a film of the pollution that hangs in the air. I look around me to see if there are any fragrant leaves that I might rub on my skin, to mask the impending odor, at least, but there doesn’t appear to be anything nearby.
I hear a chorus of murmured assent, and train my eyes on Winston, who is wrapping up the discussion on our next plan of action. In my reverie, I have effectively missed the conclusion of the discussion.
"So, where are we going?" I stand up to catch Winston as he walks past me, heading for his resting spot for the night. He regards me with a stony demeanor, and I wonder if he is still annoyed by my eagerness to loot the liquor store earlier today.
"We're going Northwest. The others prefer to stay the safer course." He turns away from me again.
I can't have this. I clear my throat and speak loudly for the first time since I can remember. "Excuse me, guys." The others turn to me in surprise, unaccustomed to hear my voice in the mix. "I want to remind you of who is paying you to come on this expedition. If you are unhappy with my decisions, feel free to leave. I don't need to pay you to draw me away from my original purpose. I am going North, and we are going to loot some houses. We are going to find tech. There will be rewards."
I am slightly breathless after my outburst, as I haven't spoken at this much length since before my parents disappeared. I survey my companions' faces; Rio's brightened eyes, Bordeaux and Danver's skeptical glances, Winston's unreadable gaze. I can tell from the sticky silence that follows that I've persuaded them.
"We leave at sunrise." My voice affects a hard, steely tone; yet when I turn from the group to my sleeping quarters, my heart is tap-dancing and my hands tremble. I know I need to maintain this façade of strength, or none of the others will take me seriously. I lie down on the hardened ground, resting my head atop the second pair of pants I brought with me, and wishing I had thought to bring along a blanket. Imagining myself lying next to someone – maybe Rio – feeling the heat of another human body, I drift into a shivery unconsciousness. I feel so very alone
After thirteen years of living alone in my filthy, crumbling abode, my social skills have dwindled down to pitifully low levels.
I find it extremely difficult to engage most of my companions in conversation. We've set up camp for the night, though I am a bit reluctant to sit too near the fire after today's incident at the liquor store, and the others chat amongst each other with relative ease. I observe from a spot several feet behind the circle, scuffing my worn leather boot in the dried dirt. Specks of dust fly up and hang, suspended, in the stagnant air. The smell of melting flesh lingers in my nostrils. My stomach grumbles, and I reach reflexively for some jerky, quickly changing my mind as I vividly remember the charred remains of Charlie's upper torso.
I wish I had any idea what I'm doing. I'm trying to head up this mission to save my parents by gathering tech, and so far all I've got is a lousy broken iPod and some batteries, one of which is starting to corrode. Judging by my companions' resistance to travelling North, through the outer edges of Rivertown, we're not likely to come across any loot between here and the Apple Store. I can only imagine what kind of information I'll get for the crap I have to trade. Yet for some reason, everyone seems reluctant to travel within the city limits. My feeble attempts at persuading the group to follow my lead amount only to meaningless, wasted air.
Winston leads the conversation, advising the others that the Northwest route would likely be safer. I wish he'd never even mentioned a choice; Bordeaux and Danver are always so quick to choose the easy way out. Surprisingly, Rio agrees with them - maybe there's something he knows about the North that I don't? He usually jumps at the chance to loot with me. That's what ultimately got us into trouble with the Bandit leader today, though Bordeaux's insolent comments surely didn't help any.
I contemplate Rio, who's sitting on the other side of the fire. He jokes a lot, but I can see sadness in his stature, an emptiness in his bright eyes. I can tell he's lost something, or someone - that hollow feeling is all too familiar to me. I want so badly to talk with him, to share in his pain, to help him find what it is he's looking for - but I can't find the right way to go about it. So far, he's been very evasive, turning any personal conversation in the opposite direction. I might not have even noticed if I wasn't so interested in knowing more about him.
The flicker of the campfire casts shadows on his face, highlighting the strong, stubbly jaw, the slight hollow beneath the cheekbones, the dimples that appear when he laughs. I have never been attracted to a Hispanic man before, but for some reason I feel a strong magnetism toward this man with the world in his eyes.
I regret leaving my mascara and shampoo behind – since I left my home in a crying mess, I am not looking my best right now. Walking for a few days along the road has left my skin with a film of the pollution that hangs in the air. I look around me to see if there are any fragrant leaves that I might rub on my skin, to mask the impending odor, at least, but there doesn’t appear to be anything nearby.
I hear a chorus of murmured assent, and train my eyes on Winston, who is wrapping up the discussion on our next plan of action. In my reverie, I have effectively missed the conclusion of the discussion.
"So, where are we going?" I stand up to catch Winston as he walks past me, heading for his resting spot for the night. He regards me with a stony demeanor, and I wonder if he is still annoyed by my eagerness to loot the liquor store earlier today.
"We're going Northwest. The others prefer to stay the safer course." He turns away from me again.
I can't have this. I clear my throat and speak loudly for the first time since I can remember. "Excuse me, guys." The others turn to me in surprise, unaccustomed to hear my voice in the mix. "I want to remind you of who is paying you to come on this expedition. If you are unhappy with my decisions, feel free to leave. I don't need to pay you to draw me away from my original purpose. I am going North, and we are going to loot some houses. We are going to find tech. There will be rewards."
I am slightly breathless after my outburst, as I haven't spoken at this much length since before my parents disappeared. I survey my companions' faces; Rio's brightened eyes, Bordeaux and Danver's skeptical glances, Winston's unreadable gaze. I can tell from the sticky silence that follows that I've persuaded them.
"We leave at sunrise." My voice affects a hard, steely tone; yet when I turn from the group to my sleeping quarters, my heart is tap-dancing and my hands tremble. I know I need to maintain this façade of strength, or none of the others will take me seriously.
I lie down on the hardened ground, resting my head atop the second pair of pants I brought with me, and wishing I had thought to bring along a blanket. Imagining myself lying next to someone – maybe Rio – feeling the heat of another human body, I drift into a shivery unconsciousness. I feel so very alone